Who controls the past
by ZedsAliveBaby
Summary: Pissing off druids just isn't something you should do. An AU story - post season three with a pretty plot twist.
1. Curse

**First of all, let me tell you my dear friend: this story makes no fucking sense at all. I'm trying to figure out whether I should continue or not. It really was just a brief moment of insanity, IDK if I should carry on.**

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_"Who controls the past controls the future. Who controls the present controls the past."_  
_- George Orwell_

It was a rough time in their lives. They could hardly process the shocking events chasing each other, fast forwarding to a different and alternate universe. Not like they actually bent the forces of the universe… they more likely bent the forces of nature.

"Eric, this is bullshit!" Pam snapped after a minute of silence, dropping her fork and pushing the plate away from herself. "It's getting fucking ridiculous, do something!" He just sat there at the other end, staring at her across the dining table with a blank expression.

"This should not be possible." He said then, aggravating his own progeny even more. He looked like his whole world was torn and it honestly frightened her, though she chose not to show her fear. Now that they were cursed, he wouldn't sense it anyway.

After getting rid of Russell fucking Edgington, it seemed like they could finally lean back and enjoy their quiet undead life again. Sure, Sookie was nowhere to be found and the way it concerned Eric did not amuse Pam. With every night she had to face the fact that her maker was starting to develop feelings for microwave fingers. The girl was no good and the fact that she'd always been on Eric's mind just wasn't acceptable. But for one year, it was nice and quiet again - even with Queen Bill ruling the state.

Until that fucking witch came. Oh, not witch - excuse the fuck out of her, druid. Correct. Druid. One would think that after so many decades spent walking that troubled Earth, Eric would know what was possible and what wasn't. And then some ancient, vengeful spirit finds its way back to a proper body to run around and cause trouble.

Eric was asking Godric's guidance, praying for his maker to help him understand such situation. But terms like maker or progeny weren't proper anymore. Pam was in some kind of strange state of shock, compulsively repeating several well-sorted curse words.

It was all Bill's fault. That pompous dork sent them to the druid. He wanted them to face such a powerful enemy all alone. He wanted them gone and it was the perfect cover to make it look completely legit. Of course, he held onto the idea of not knowing about the druid owning that huge power. Clearly.

"You're fucking lying" Pam hissed with eyes narrowed and arms crossed in front of her chest, shaking in anger with her maker standing right beside her like a ghost of himself. Bill just stared at them with that ugly political face, pulling the lamest excuses he could mixing it with a few threats as well. He was so fucking incompetent he didn't even know which way to stick to. "Fix this!" Pam demanded, gesturing at herself and then Eric. Seemed like ever since shit hit the fan, she was the one standing up for themselves because Eric was speechless. The Warrior Vampire Viking God - for the first time - didn't know what to say. "FIX. IT." Of course, Queen Bill did nothing, just as was expected.

They never should've gone there. It was foolish to go against an unknown enemy, let alone threaten and attack them. The moment she held up her hand and Pam felt the sudden motion freezing her body all she could drop was a surprised "Oh, fuck." Eric - on the other hand - seemed rather angered. Not so long though. How could vampires exist, anyway? With no heart beating, no brain functioning? What kind of magic was that? And was that even reversible? After the unfortunate event Pam went straight to find out as much about druids as it was humanly possible. Literally.

The immortality of the soul, human sacrifices, nature and spirit and shit. All mysterious talk from a powerful person's mouth. Druidis… they really did piss her off, but the question was: why didn't she simply just kill them? Made them her servants?

"Thou shall suffer the greater punishment." Pam repeated the words in her chair with an obviously biting tone and a typical eye roll, making fun of the woman who cursed them for a lifetime. "Full of shit."

Weren't those ancient fuckers supposed to be cruel? Or was that the cruelest punishment itself? Slowly Pam started to realize what that all meant. All their power, their existence, their safety… got divided by zero.

It all happened so fast. A complete blackout. One moment they were launching themselves at the druid and the next they woke up knocked out and alone at the same place but without anyone in sight. At first they figured it was all - fine, it was obvious they couldn't do anything to stop her. But the rest wasn't expected.

The weird feeling haunted them for days. It took much more for Eric than for Pam. The worst was the constant blunt ache all over their bodies. And then it happened.

Pam was carrying a good four crates of Tru Blood, walking towards the bar with Eric sitting on one of the barstools counting the night's income. It was just a good half an hour after closing time and she was about to restock the fridge when the honestly breathtaking wave of pain shook her body and the crates fell to the floor, every bottle shattering and the smell of that disgusting Tru Blood filling the room. The floor immediately turned red as the synthetic blood slowly covered every free inch of it and she fell to her knees, a hand suddenly reaching out to grab her own shirt around her chest, almost tearing the fabric as she clutched it convulsively.

"Pamela!" Eric dropped the name with honest concern as he pushed himself away from the bar and got to her within a blink. "What's happening?" He asked, pulling her to him and into his lap, arms protectively wrapping around her form. The mere scene itself frightened him to no end - he'd never seen his progeny just drop to the floor with such pained expression.

Taking huge breaths she didn't even need Pam blinked a few times, finally letting go of her chest with a huge sigh and shaking her head suddenly so tired. "It's… nothing." She muttered, finally making herself look into her maker's eyes with an assuring smile. She had no idea what was going on, but the pain was gone and it was more than enough for her. "I'm fine, I'm fine." Repeating the sentence she pushed herself away from Eric but her knees turned out to be too weak to hold her weight and she fell back down and into her maker's arms. "Fuck!" Tru Blood was all over their clothing already and she was getting rather annoyed. "What the actual…"

And then a just too familiar sound, so quiet but yet so loud - broke the silence. A single beat, followed by another, and another, and another… Exactly seventy-four within a single minute. So utterly shocked she turned to Eric, placing a hand on his chest with eyes wide open. "Is that you?" She muttered the question quietly, more than afraid of the answer.

Instead of giving an actual answer, he just shook his head with the same disbelief on his face.

"What is wrong with me!" Pam yelled out, trying to get up and away from Eric with her vampire speed but only tripping and almost falling to the ground once again - her maker's protective arms holding her weight for the brief moment she found her balance again. "ERIC!" Her tone got higher and higher and even her British accent was detectable through her desperate words. "Make it stop! STOP IT!" He just stood there with eyes and mouth wide open, in loss of words or thoughts. "My fucking heart is beating, it's beating! I can't use my speed, I can't… My fangs aren't coming out, they won't come out, I… my heart, Eric!" Never in her undead or human life was she so frightened, and the emotions overwhelming her whole conscience were getting unbearable. "Don't just fucking stand there, I… I…" Instead of carrying on with yelling she just broke down crying, crying so hard that the desperate sobs shook her entire form, putting her arms around herself just to provide some support for her own sanity. "Eric…" She cried out, finally snapping him out of the fantasy world he was in and shook his head, his gaze meeting hers filled with the pure terror he just couldn't hide. Just to do something, he stepped closer to her again and held his beloved progeny in a tight embrace, a hand stroking her soft hair and pressing her porcelain face against his muscular torso.

"Na'aww, calm down. Stop it with the crying, it's no biggie. I will call Dr. Ludwig and we'll figure something, you hear me?" Cupping her face, he pulled away only enough to look into her bright blue eyes. "You feel so warm." He said with a huge grin, wiping her human tears away with a huge grin though he was really full of dread. "Now, where's that smile?" She wanted to answer something not even slightly gentle, reminding him of what was happening, however she couldn't help but felt utterly comforted by his words and she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath before opening them again, getting so close to have her eyes watering again. She was terrified and Eric was too, the mask was no use.

"Eric, I…"

"No, I was asking for a smile, not talk." He muttered, thumb stroking her cheek though it felt cold and rough but it was still utterly calming. "Who's my princess?" She always hated when he pulled the baby talk but her pride was just too satisfied with the title.

Rolling her eyes she reluctantly mumbled the answer, as quietly as it was possible. "Me."

"Correct. And now let me see that smile." All he earned was a hostile smile and Pam's hand gripping on his wrist in order to remove his hands.

"Call. Ludwig. Now."

It just didn't make any sense - at least, not for Pam. Sitting at the dining table she kept staring at her fork, trying to figure out the meaning of it all. Life punished with death, and death punished with… life? Of course, it made sense. Days after that major moment when her cold heart started beating again, Eric went through the same transformation and slowly the puzzle pieces came together. A greater punishment than death… With the True Death, they would've just simply stopped existing. But giving up hundreds of years just to carry on with their lives as humans again? Without powers, without their decades of advantage and fighting skills among vampires roaming the Earth, and many of them wanting nothing more but to teach them a lesson? Age and superior existence meant no protection anymore, they were nothing but regular, simple, weak humans - the lost sheep among the wolves, the bleeding scar next to the sharks.

Ever since it happened, Eric got obsessed with the sun. Instead of thinking about how to fix their major problem, he was outside all day until the sun went down. Then they were forced to spend the night in the house; how were they supposed to explain their employees and every other vampire they were in touch with, that they simply weren't one of them anymore?

"Eric, this is the last time. Call someone you trust and make them turn us!" Pam basically begged, standing from the table and making her way to her former maker with a desperate expression. "You can't possibly want to live like this."

"Would you rather be a baby?" Eric asked flatly, staring in front of himself. "Would you want someone else to be your maker?"

"Of course not!" Pam answered without the mere presence of hesitation. "Someone will turn you and you can turn me." She explained like it was the simplest thing in the world.

"You wouldn't give up on me but you want me to give up on Godric?" With that he finally looked at her, locking their gaze with a heavy weight on his mind. "Would you risk it? Would you give someone the complete power over me? You think the moment I crawl out of the dirt I would be released?"

Shaking her head, Pam tried to reason, holding onto the last piece of hope. The words were indeed painful, but sadly true as well. "You're not owning that power anymore. They can't turn it against you."

"Why can't you just enjoy it, Pamela? We've been given a second chance. The sun is ours!" The sun. Always the fucking sun. Rolling her eyes Pam took a deep breath.

"The sun is ours. And diseases. Fragile bodies. Weakness. Slowness. Danger. Aging. Death. I don't want to die with you, I want to be by your side. Always. I remember your words perfectly. "Everything ends." This is not how we should end!" The truth is, it never was a possibility to leave Eric. She could've easily made someone turn her, many young vampires knew her from Fangtasia, they admired and worshipped her - it wouldn't have been hard to get back to her real self, assuming it would work. Fuck, even that annoying excuse of a baby, Jessica could've turned her, if that hadn't meant she would be related to Queen Bill. But without Eric, there was just simply no point. "You promised me you would protect me." She muttered quietly, losing her fury and confidence and letting her doubt and fear surface.

"And I will keep this promise. Always." He answered, lifting an arm and stroking her cheek tenderly. They could grow old together and he would be still her guardian.

"Then protect me!" She begged, a single tear escaping her eye, the cold grip of fear on her throat suffocating her. "Protect me."

Shaking his head Eric tore his gaze away, clenching his jaw and gathering his thoughts. Then he just simply pulled her down into his lap and put his arms around her petite form, murmuring the words with a calming tone.

"I will. I will always protect you." But turning just wasn't an option in his eyes, not anymore. "One way or another."


	2. Misery

**Sorry for being so slow. And for the enormous amount of fluff. And that it's boring. I just feel the need to over-explain everything, it's an OCD thing. I promise to try and make it more dynamic, and... well thank you for reading! If you usually review, do not get rid of this lovely habit, if you don't... it is about time to start it! Enjoy, XOXO**

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"For the last time, Pam." Her maker's slightly annoyed, deep, yet so soft and calming voice coming from downstairs didn't stop her at all. Frankly, she was still ignoring him as much as she could without angering him, and his petal soft words wouldn't change a single thing. It was a silent protest against him being a complete fucktard; the rest just couldn't concern her less. If he wanted to be a born idiot, well hell.. she wasn't about to stop him. She wasn't fooling herself into childish fantasies; she was well aware of how he wouldn't listen to her anymore. Her maker seemed to love pretending that he was basically deaf whenever it came to discussing the matter and trying to find an acceptable solution - one that would please her as well, and not just that viking man of a giant. All he did after the shocking events was get Pam and then the hell out of Shreveport - exactly to Sookie's house. Or more likely, his.

Now that microwave fingers was gone and Eric bought that disgusting fail of the architecture - in hopes that one day that would make Tinkerbell spread her legs in return for the keys - they were more than allowed to settle down there. It seemed safe; besides Queen Bill, it was far from everywhere and that pathetic excuse of a vampire would hardly bother them. The gloating prick was probably still laughing at them as pleased as punch in his fancy-ass office, but they were safe from the Shreveport trouble. Temporary. Just a day. Right. A day turned into a week and a week turned into a month. The amount of sitting around and doing nothing compared to the progress they made in trying to work out a solution was getting unbearable, and for some fucktarded reason Eric would rather spend his time at that mudshit lake instead of trying to do anything helpful. Quickly, he got obsessed with the sun and now it would've been basically impossible to stop him from enjoying the blessed days again. Opposed to him, Pam was massively hating on the orb of abomination, and wasn't even slightly willing to escort her maker to said lake, exactly why he was bothering her all the time.

Instead of answering, she just remained silent and turned back on the blow dryer with the honest intention of shutting him out. While the loud and aggravating noise basically crawled into her mind - not willing to leave - some kind of twisted peace came with the warm waves and she let her eyes fall shut, breathing with ease and hoping he would leave, the sooner the better. However, the moment she opened her eyes, Pam caught the familiar face staring at her from the mirror and she rolled her eyes, taking a step forward towards the wall and pulling the dryer's plug out. She made sure to keep silent and do whatever she was seemingly busy with, waiting for him to finally give up and just leave. This is how they were lately: he knew what she wanted, she knew what he wanted, and they just weren't about to find the same note. Only their afflicted annoyance seemed to be mutual.

"Why don't you come and try? You will love it." Eric said, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe, watching his progeny brushing and drying her hair with a ridiculously soft-looking pink bathrobe covering her form. She'd probably just stepped out of the shower therefore he had just enough time to convince her, and so he decided not to give up so easily this time.

"No." She answered after a while, making Eric frown and cross his arms in front of his chest.

"It's just a lake. Just give it a go. Please." Answering with a calm expression he kept his voice quiet and didn't bother to move at all, lazily letting his gaze stay settled on the beautiful but horribly stubborn woman instead of turning his head even a single inch away. The crack between them was getting deeper with every waking moment, and though he wasn't willing to admit as much - it worried him to no end. A part of him felt guilty for not giving her what she wanted, however he considered himself to be a fairly good judge of these decisions. They could enjoy that life, too. Human life. Together. "You could get a perfect tan." He offered with a wide grin, using her most sensitive issue as it came to beauty and fashion, hoping that would be more of an effective reason. "Come on, you love swimming! You always have."

"I can't get a tan, it would look horrible with my clothes." Pam explained with a truly annoyed tone like she was talking to a retarded child, reminding her maker of the tragic fact that even her dresses weren't a subject of satisfaction anymore. For many decades she'd chosen her elegant and shamelessly expensive dresses with the goal of balancing her extraordinary pale skin - getting a tan wasn't an option, it would've ruined basically everything. "Besides, I just put the coniditoner on." She said, wiping her hands and placing the bottle back on the shelf behind the mirror. The tiny piece of furniture was hiding several bottles and jars of conditioners, masks, gels and balms - there was basically no place for anything else but her beauty products.

"You don't even need these things!" Eric pointed it out with a frown. "We both know how exceptional your physical appearance is, anyway." With a progeny like that pretty blonde damnation, one soon learned that you better wrap those compliments neatly.

That finally made Pam take a turn around and tear her gaze away from the mirror, just to lock it with his and stare into his piercing bright blue eyes with an honestly angered expression. She started to gesture around with the hair brush and spat out the words, an unstoppable flood of rage, dropping every cursed syllable so angrily. Her British accent haunting the words; an indicator that she was exceptionally upset.

"Yes I do! And you know why? Because you're too fucking busy with enjoying this life instead of actually caring about me. I'm a fucking human, Eric, we both are! I'm getting older with each day, my body does things I wasn't missing, not even the slightest bit. I'm having these feelings and emotions and they're stretching me from inside, constantly paining me for having them because I have no idea how to control them, not anymore. I need a fucking blanket at nights because I'm cold. A blanket, Eric. A blanket! If I'm hungry I can't just grab a looker I fancy, I need to go and get myself food or cook, like a desperate fucking housewife! And yes, what a shocking surprise, never would've guessed; I even need these conditioners. So frankly, why don't you go to your precious lake and shove that beloved deadly fireball up somewhere uncomfortable?" With that she stormed out of the bathroom, not even waiting for him to react but holding up the hair brush and pressing it to his chest - leaving it for him to hold it as she made her way to the king sized bed, steps stomping on the wood floor.

Eric just stood there, wisely silent with arms still crossed in front of his muscular torso - his expression both confused and strict. Normally he wouldn't have let her talk to him so disrespectfully. After all, whatever happened had happened but he was still her maker. Her father. Brother. Son. Everything she had to respect and worship just as much as he worshipped his one progeny. She was the only woman who could capture his soul enough to be willing binded with hers - even if sometimes he wished to slap her pretty face or pull her soft, long, blonde cascade so hard she wouldn't bother with conditioners anymore.

The moment she reached the edge of it, she fell to the soft mattress and let her overwhelming emotions take over control once again. Honestly, she didn't stand a chance anyway, it seemed like she merely failed to control herself in a condition like… that. A colossal fail. Repeatedly. One would think having self-control among humans as a vampire was hard, but now having power over your own fuckload of emotions…that was remarkably harder. After all these years it seemed much harder than she remembered. Slowly, her anger just vanished into the thin air and left her with her desperate thoughts suffocating her like an iron chain's tight grip around her graceful neck.

What wasn't so graceful, was the way she crumbled and fell to pieces on the covers in the form of tears, actually. Now one thing she hated to do - among many others - was cry. It makes you feel and look horrible, was just a waste of time and energy, and also it led exactly nowhere. However, that cursed moment in microwave fingers' house sealed her misery after long days of just holding all these fears inside. There was no turning back, and the fact that her maker got to see her losing it was just another drop in that already full cup anyway. She was trying to get herself together - she really was. But it didn't matter, and not even Eric's presence could stop her from bursting out in a bitter cry.

"Why is this happening to us? We're weak. Powerless. This life can't provide us anything but a promise of a painful death at the end of a meaningless, negligible life. Without feeling superior what's the point of struggling through this world? Diseases, aging, just mindless puppets of the society always remin ded ofwhat we had by those fucking baby vamps running around with their baby fangs like they own the world. No existence, just Tinkerbell's fucking house and a pink bathrobe." Slowly, she managed to dive so deep into her own torturing thoughts and get so absent-minded that there were was no present anymore. No Eric, no house, no human life… Just her inner- self dreading the outside world, for the first time in long decades. "This is the worst curse I've ever known. I hated this life. Hated it with every fiber in my being. Why would anyone wish for this pathetic way of living?"

Hopelessly, she let out a sour bit of laughter. "This isn't a way to live. How fucking ironic. I'd rather take the True Death. Gladly." Finally, she managed to pull herself together enough to push herself up and gather her legs above her body; nonchalantly sitting up in the bed and holding her weight by one hand while the other neatly wiped her tears away. Turning her back to Eric she could not see his expression - and without her heightened senses and excellent vampire hearing she failed to notice even the sounds of him cutting the distance between them. However, the moment he placed a hand on her shoulder she twitched, looking down at the covers without even thinking about turning to him. His fingers slowly traced her skin from her shoulder to her neck, tenderly stroking it while he sat down without bothering to say a word. After his index finger had drawn such an elegant track and he was already sitting so close behind her, his hands instantly sought out her hair, tenderly gathering it into a loose grip. Mourning the life she'd lost, Pam closed her eyes and let the tears fall again - once again so glad that Eric couldn't see that shameful scene. Little did she know that he was perfectly aware of the bitter tears hungrily rolling down her cheek in the silence.

The familiar feeling of the hairbrush running through her already soft hair caught her off guard but she didn't bother to move or show an actual reaction. The time just wasn't right for her to speak . No, it was his turn to talk - and he knew it. Of course he knew it, he knew everything.

"As your maker, my duty is to give you everything I can." He started, still stroking her golden blond cascade. "You are my everything, my one legacy. But you have to understand what are you asking." The words felt so heavy all of a sudden at the thought of his deceased maker, and after a rough inner struggle he got a grip on himself and carried on. "Giving up Godric and claiming someone else as my maker, having someone else to share that bond with me is something I'm just simply not capable of. I can't betray him. How could I? Could you betray me?" Exempt of any kind of sadness or grievance, he asked the sincere question, waiting for the answer he was sure he knew the answer to already.

"I am still here, am I not?" The words tasted bitter and she formed them considerately and modestly, her face darkening with such sour expression. Not because she had to stay and follow him still - obviously, saying her goodbyes and seeking for her own path wasn't on her mind, ever - but because her hatred towards a just too human life seemed to chase away the viking's attempts to placate her somewhow.

"Because you belong to me." Eric stated so dedicatedly, his tone left no place to argue, not like she intended to. It seemed like the calm strokes from the top of her head all the way down precisely to the end of her soft hair weren't about to cease - the pleasant result of Eric brushing her hair so restlessly. It was rather unprecedented, such affectionate gestures weren't exactly his cup of tea, and they weren't made very often - aside from her very first few years as an immortal. Giving in so tenderly must've been the sign of him coming to terms with his human nature. After a century together, he seemed to open up slightly and admit how much he cared, surprisingly easily, and that sweetened her damned mortal life. a tiny bit.

Make no mistake, he still was the bloodthirsty Viking - not so vampire - god… the mere thought pushed a proud, but almost undetectable smile on her face. She would never want to change a thing in him, no matter however stubborn, cocky or careless he could be. Yet every time he let her catch a glimpse of his affection towards her, Pam couldn't help but felt privileged. Special. Like a billion bucks, and more. "A hundred years and you would never leave my side and never question my decisions." He continued, his hand never stopping moving up and down though there was no possible way for her blonde veil of a hair to get any more softer and perfectly-brushed than it was She didn't mind. One wouldn't have Eric Northman do that any day. "I can't promise to give you the eternal life I gave you once already, because I do not want that for myself. I've paid my dues, seen whatever a man could see, been superior for so long. Now I want to enjoy the sun again. Enjoy… being human again."

As much as it pained her to realize that her maker was preferring such a meaningless existence over the eternity they could spend together, Pam remained silent and let him continue, and tell her whatever he had to say. A part of her was intrigued to find out from where his passion towards a human life was rooting, and what the point was... Probably, the sun. Always that fucking fireball.

"All I ask is for you to try to enjoy it. Give it a go." He muttered as the strokes died down and he placed the hairbrush down on the mattress, then put his hands on her shoulders, softly pressuring her to turn to him. Once she did, he cupped her pale porcelain cheeks instantly, basically forcing her to look into his sincere eyes, even though hers seemed to hypnotize him every time he found himself staring into them. Some kind of cocky pride overwhelmed him while realizing that those eyes and that woman seemed so dedicated to stay by his side until it was physically impossible. And knowing how fucking stubborn she was, she would find a way even after - that made him laugh. And she kept their gaze locked, oddly patient to hear what he had to say.

Leaving one palm still covering her cheek, Eric ran the other hand through her hair, softly gripping the end of it and wrapping it around his hand and off, repeating the process absent-mindedly though his eyes never left hers. "You know I love you." He stated the obvious fact both of them knew. He loved her, she loved him, they loved each other and that is how they lived for a hundred years now. Sure they had their own temporary playthings, be it a pretty dancer or fairy waitress - but their love for each other was never a thing to question. "And now I know how it is. Never in my human life have I felt love for someone like I feel for you. And now I'm human again. Humans call that real love, don't _we_?" He asked, tilting his head slightly with eyes narrowed a tad bit. "Please. Don't be mad at me, Pamela. You might think it's useless, but I want this." Stroking her cheek with his thumb he leaned forward to whisper the words into her ear. "My love for you is still immortal in me."

And in that moment, she knew that was the sincerest way he would ever confess his love. Through a hundred years she'd lived through more than enough situations to make her blood rush through her veins but she never had the chance to feel her heart beating so fast - it was surprising to her that her chest was still in one piece. She was speechless; she let the lonely moments pass before she managed to answer with a biting, snarky comment just to cover the emotions trying to overpower her once again.

"Just like your horrible speeches." The next moment all she could feel was the brief, sharp pain aching through her head as Eric pulled her head back so roughly that she gasped, growling as he let go of her hair. "Ouch. Dick!"

"Twat." And so the battle begun, throwing various mean nicknames at each other and getting more and more enthusiastic after every attentively chosen word.

"Bastard!"

"Hissy child"

"Fairy fucker!"

Taking a long look at his progeny, Eric narrowed his eyes, getting irritated and cheerful at the same time; tthe sight of her being her confident and biting self once again. That only meant he did something right.

Instead of carrying on with the childish fight, he acted up on his desires and leaned forward, placing a hand on the back of her neck and pulling her into a heated kiss. Sealing their lips without hesitation, he playfully parted her full, petal soft lips with his tongue and crossed a line they hadn't crossed for decades now. Back when she was completely new, inexperienced and driven by her heightened desires, her hunger for release often led them to that road. And he didn't mind the slightest bit. In all honesty, he'd seduced super models, princesses, beautiful women all over the world whom every man craved painfully… However, his princess, his lover, and one true love in heart would remain the one he was kissing so passionately at that moment after all that time. The reason why they let go of that kind of intimacy back then was that she wanted to explore herself, or some other bullshit his pride had most certainly taken as a punch in the guts.

Reclaiming her mouth after pulling away for a brief moment, his tongue darted repeatedly past her lips, while his hand began to wander; placing it on her thigh and then sliding it upwards and under the bathrobe. But she didn't pull away - of course she didn't. For once: it was him, she would deny him when hell freezes over. On the other hand: it clearly wasn't an offer, it was how it was, and sure as hell he wasn't about to claim only her mouth but her body as well... the faster the better. And she would love it. Scream his name. Have her body shaking in pleasures. Because of him. All of the sudden the memory of them reaching that glorious point at the same time, _several_ times… That feeling he'd buried in the back of his mind long ago awakened within a blink of an eye and he was already more than hungry for everything she had to offer. Pulling away just to breathe, he precisely started working on getting to his goal and wrapped his fingers on her bathrobe's neat bow to pull and undo it in the next moment.

Greedy hands pushed the bathrobe off her form to reveal her naked body and so Eric pulled away, taking a lust-filled, yearning look at her sculptural beauty. With that, he grabbed the hem of his shirt and basically ripped off his torso as he pulled it up and off himself, fingers instantly lacing on his belt to undo it so he could get to the zipper right after. Once he pushed his pants down - loyal to his habits, he didn't even have any underwear on - the former vampire leaned down to his progeny and covered every inch of her skin along her elegant jaw line with hurried kisses. "Jag vill att du" He dropped the words in an impatient growl.

"Så, ta mig" She answered between two satisfied moans, said moans being the result of her maker's sudden grip on her breast. And just like that, her body heated up, skin so warm, breaths taken so quickly, while his hands stroked every fiber of her being, making their way down to her hip where he got a strong hold of her entire body. Eyes fell shut as he pulled her closer to him and parted her legs, the eagerness just growing in her with every waking moment especially when she felt him placing the tip of his length to her entrance. And then he stopped, teasingly, enjoying how her body was aching to feel him inside of her, core throbbing, and every little part of her screaming for release. "Eric, vän…" Unfortunately she couldn't finish - choking on the word as her maker entered her with a rough thrust.


	3. Attempts

**Neew chapter (: Thanks for my Mommy for all her BETA help. I love that woman so god damn much. And uhm... sorry. Really. I'm a horrible writer but I love it so don't hesitate to review, even if all you would do is pointing out my mistakes... You know, that helps too.**

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Eric would be gone for hours that afternoon, and although he honestly tried basically everything to convince his rather stubborn progeny to join him, at the end of the day he still got to chase fish - or whatever ugly creatures were lurking in that certain lake - all alone. "You know, next time you really should join me. It's fun." He said as he kicked the door and it slammed close. Pam was lying lazily in the living room, to be more accurate in the armchair which gave just a perfect view of the front entrance.

That made him smile. No matter what she was, she would always be ready for unexpected situations, therefore she sat down somewhere where she could keep an eye on the door. That reminded him - again - how intelligent she truly was; no matter how shallow or naive she seemed for a stranger, he was extremely proud of her wit. Of course he wouldn't admit that - what she was extremely proud of, was her confidence. Yet another compliment would boost it way too much.

Then again, she seemed so utterly bored, legs threw across the armrest and a magazine resting in her lap. Without bothering to look up she started flipping through the pages with a smirk, feet moving to a non-existent beat she was playing probably only in her head, and helplessly his eyes found her so called 'comfortable' clothing quite provocative - as ever.

"When hell freezes over, maybe." She said, still not willing to look up.

"Careful what you wish for." Eric muttered as he turned and made his way into the kitchen, still talking. "Last time I checked, the dead wouldn't be living again." Pouring himself a glass of iced tea he opened the fridge and rolled his eyes to himself. Sure there was no actual food in there, what the hell was he expecting… that she would take care of anything instead of lying around all day? With an annoyed sigh he moved back to the living room with the iced tea and leaned his shoulder against the wall, legs crossed and his expression defiant as he stood there staring at his progeny. "Yet here we are." With that he took a small gulp of the tea.

"Hell doesn't exist and you could do something more productive than spending all your time at your stupid lake, anyway." Pam muttered matter-of-factly, knowing that there was no place for her to decide what was he supposed to do with his time. However, she was pissed. Pissed at the world. At Eric. At the fact that she was something she despised. Again.

But there was only so much he could do, and after a point her constant biting comments would get to even him. "Would you mind telling me what were you doing all day?"

"I cut off the sleeves of your jackets. All of them." Pam said with a nonchalant shrug, flipping through the pages until her eyes settled on an article. "For fun." For a moment he just closed his eyes and she carried on like nothing happened. "Well look at that, Cosmopolitan would like to give me a few tips to master oral sex."

No matter how mad he was at her a moment before, Eric couldn't help but let a huge grin form as he raised a brow and answered with a rather deep tone. "And here I thought you already mastered it."

"Me too." She answered flatly, then started flipping through the magazine again until a fashion page caught her attention. "Ruining those boots with that snakeskin. How depressing."

Somehow, the scene amused him to no end and once she finally looked at him with a huge sigh he widened his grin, standing there perfectly content in nothing but a single swimming trunk, hair dripping with water. Taking a long look at his muscular torso she kept her thoughts to herself as her body slowly heated up at the thought of the feel of that skin. Afraid that her eyes might give her uncontrollable, stupid, human lust away, she looked back at the magazine and reached out towards the coffee table without looking. She quickly found the bar of chocolate and grabbed it, taking a bite and letting the sweet taste dominate her senses.

"Chocolate?"

"Mhm."

For a moment he just stared at her, then shrugged and turned around. "You know if you keep doing nothing all day but reading magazines lazily laying around and eating chocolate, you're gonna have a hard time having those tight dresses of yours fit you much longer." Eric dropped the mean comment over his shoulder as he stepped towards the stairs. A moment later the magazine flew through the living room and hit the wall with a loud snap, barely missing his form.

"Read this" Pam scoffed, however she put said bar of chocolate down and got up with a hissy expression, storming out of the house. He just stood there, watching her childish act utterly amused and rolling his eyes once he caught her cursing him outside.

* * *

Hours later in the early evening, Pam made her way inside the house balancing two bags of groceries. It was almost impossible to find a hidden little shop where people - Super Snatch's friends - wouldn't run into her. Now that they lived in microwave finger's house they needed to pay some attention. As soon as she exited the car she dialed her maker's number, holding her phone in place by leaning her head on her shoulder as she entered the house with both hands full. After five rings Pam rolled her eyes and dropped the bags to the table, moving to the stairs and climbing them without hesitation while still calling Eric. A few steps away from the bedroom she noticed the odd tone, frowning as she entered the room just to hear the music in its all beauty.

_...__the __barbie __world__, __life __in __plastic__, __it__'__s __fantastic__! __You __can __brush __my __hair__, __undress __me __everywhere__, __imagination__, __life __is __your __creation__!_

By that time she was already standing at the night stand, staring at the phone. Taking a terrified look at the screen she saw her own name listed with a not even slightly acceptable photo. Of course, Eric was lying on his belly in bed, covering the whole thing with his huge frame, commenting on the situation with loud snorts.

_I__'__m __a __blond __bimbo __girl__, __in __the __fantasy __world__, __dress __me __up__, __make __it __tight__, __I__'__m __your __dolly__! __You__'__re __my __doll__, __rock__'__n__'__roll__, __feel __the __glamour __in __pink__, __kiss __me __here__, __touch __me __there__, __hanky __panky__... __You __can __touch__, __you __can __play__, __if __you __say__: "__I__'__m __always __yours__"_

"What the fuck?" She muttered to herself, turning to the bed with a hostile look. Just like that she crawled into the bed and got on her knees next to his back, slowly starting to scratch the soft skin. "Rise and shine, asshole." She hissed when he jumped in his sleep, rolling on his side in the bed and opening his eyes with a clouded expression.

"Pamela." He said with an exhausted sigh, eyes falling shut instantly with an unmistakable you-again kind of tone. Pushing himself up, Eric pulled up into a sitting position - then rubbed his forehead and gave himself some time to calm down. He could feel his back aching, the small scratches stinging and he wasn't even slightly pleased. "May I ask you why have you felt the need to rip my skin open?"

"Seriously? _That_ is my ringtone?" For a moment Eric couldn't believe his ears. Was she honestly making a problem out of her ringtone?

"Yes"

"Change it"

"No"

"I said change it!" Pam snapped at him utterly irritated, tempted to grab his phone and toss it to the ground.

"And I said no." Her maker answered so calmly that it just annoyed her even more. "Why were you calling me anyway?"

Now, that question seemed to surprise her and she placed a hand on her hip along with raising a brow - even sitting in the bed, she would stay loyal to her habits. "I want to go to Fangtasia."

"No." He answered without hesitation and pulled back slightly with eyes narrowed.

"But why?"

"It's dangerous. There are too many vampires who want to hurt us. I can't protect you like I used to." He admitted even if the last sentence left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"Fuck them, we are vampires too!" Pam burst out almost yelling as she let her anger overpower her. "You said I should do something productive, let me work! I want our bar back!"

"We are no vampires. We are humans." Eric said with an exhausted sigh. "And we're not going to Fangtasia. Not until I figure something out."

Within a blink her entire mood changed from hostile to miserable and the whole fact irritated her to no end. Human nature and feelings reminded her of how it was, being a baby vamp when you had no control over the impulses effecting you. She was just as defenseless against all those emotions basically enslaving her real self.

"Please?" She pleaded, starting to feel more and more pathetic, maybe even the edge of a panic attack. What the hell was she supposed to do with her life in the future? She was nothing. She had nothing. And Eric was just too damn busy with enjoying that fucktarded existence to care.

"I'm not going to risk your safety. It's my final word."

For long moments she stared at him, her expression turning from sad to angered once again, and she got up with her fists clenched. "Fine! I'll go alone!"

"No, you won't." Eric said with a bored tone and rolled back on his belly as Pam got out of the bed and moved towards the door. He knew it was just her throwing a fit about something again. Bonded or not, she would still follow his orders and he clearly forbid her to do so. Therefore, he was a hundred percent calm about it, and a hundred and one percent ignorant towards her hissy act.

She stormed out and he took a deep breath. Her constant childish behavior was starting to annoy him, even if he knew it wasn't on purpose. Surely he wouldn't mention that to her but he managed to discuss the topic with Dr. Ludwig. According to her theory, it was all caused by the transformation. She acted like a hormonal bitch because she simply didn't have hormones for a hundred years and now her body needed to get back on track.

Her wants and thoughts got more urging, feelings strengthened and impulses managed to get to her easier, just like they did after she became a creature of the dark. At least, that was what the Doctor considered a legitimate explanation. But then again, she would find absolutely abnormal stuff completely normal.

For Eric, it was much easier. He didn't fight it. He loved it. He found his balance, he made peace with it. He was a human again. Everything that seemed so distant for a thousand years… the sea, warm and reflecting the sun's soft rays. The moment Pam found her true self, Eric would take her to his homeland. Show her the land he adored in the sun, again. Maybe then she would understand. There wasn't anyone else worthy enough to experience that sight, taste his childhood or cherished bits of his human life. It was a waiting game, and he needed all his patience not to slap some common sense into his child. Her act was getting out of control, but he was convinced she would find her way back to him. She always had.

* * *

"Fucking fuck!" Eric's eyes opened wide, dragged out of his sleep at his progeny's angered yelling coming from downstairs. "So help me, if I EVER find out who's responsible for inventing these I'm going to rip out their filth of a descendant's hearts and bathe in their blood" That made him realize that she was suffering no actual harm. Lazily, he rolled on his back and stretched out, glancing at the clock on the nightstand.

"Paam." He called out with a clearly irritated voice, staring at the ceiling. "Go to sleep already" But no reply came and so he frowned, noticing the weird scent around him. Eric got out of the bed and moved to the bedroom's door, walking through it and to the stairs, blinking at the thin layer of smoke lingering around. "Pamela…?" Asking with a cautious tone he went down the stairs, sniffing around like a hound. "What is that smell?"

The moment he entered the kitchen his eyes opened wide, shocked at the sight around him. It looked like a battlefield back from his Viking days. Seemed like even the small curtains on the tiny kitchen window caught on fire. "What the hell?!" He snapped at her, gesturing around with an angered expression. "WHAT THE FUCK, PAMELA? What were you thinking? This place is a mess, you almost burned this entire house down, you could've killed us! You know what? I don't care, get the fuck back to sleep and stop acting like a spoiled brat." She was just standing in front of the stove, staring at him with a weird expression as her arms fell to her sides. "You ruined Sookie's kitchen." Her face fell and for a moment he caught so much sorrow in one look that he silenced himself instantly. Yes. Silence had fallen and for a long time he was just staring at her. Now that she gained her blank expression back there was no sign of emotions. "What?" He groaned irritated. "What is your fucking problem now, huh?"

And then she burst out crying, tears falling from her eyes like rain, staring to shake as sobs ran through her entire body. In ten minutes, he felt shocked for the second time. That was hella impressive, considering that in thousand years it was rather rare for him to feel surprised. "Pam…" He took a step forward when she held up her hand, covering her face and breathing haltingly.

"I… I… I just wanted to surprise you." She blurted it out, tears rolling down her cheeks but he only saw them escaping from under her palm and gathering on her chin. "You were so… mad at me and I… though if I… made you something…" Then she just turned around back to the stove and that was when he noticed the weird looking thing in the frying pan placed on the stove. Only then did he actually look around and notice the bowls and spoons lying all over the table.

Pam grabbed the frying pan and threw it in the sink, opening the tap and letting the water run on the burning hot pan and on whatever dough was in it. Seemed something like… pancakes, maybe? Then she put her arms around her petite form like she was trying to get a hold on herself and pressed her back against the fridge. Silently crying, she let her body slip and ended up on the floor, forehead leaned against her knees and arms hugging her legs. It was one of the few shocking moments when Eric got to see her as a fragile little girl. His fragile little girl.

"Fucking Sookie." She hissed while gulping on her tears. "I… try…. so hard… to accept this… I need you and you… Even now… What is so fucking… amazing in that gap toothed… bitch." He just stood there with his mouth open, staring at his progeny breaking down like never before. Then he finally gained his conscience back and stepped to her almost in vampire speed, kneeling instantly and pulling her into a tight embrace.

"My child…" The moment he gripped on her wrist Pam let out a painful groan and hissed, recoiling slightly. "What?" He asked, raising a brow and reaching out for her hand again, this time a bit more gentle. Now he gripped on a different spot and pulled it to him - that was when he noticed the rosy mark on her skin. "You burned yourself?" Eric asked in disbelief, among his worries was a tiny bit of amusement at the thought of how humble she was when it came to cooking.

"The fuck do you care, go and long after your precious, missing fairy." Pam snapped, taking her hand back and wiping her tears away. Then she just shoved his arms off her and after some awkward flailing around - what she certainly wouldn't have admitted - she got up and smoothed the creases out of her dress.

Without a word he stood too, moving over the sink where the water was still running and the remains of the semi-cooked pancake monster was likely about to clog the drain. Calm and considerate he took a clean kitchen rag and set the tap for the coldest, watering the rag until it got freezing cold. Then he turned around, smiling to himself when he saw his progeny's confused expression. Without a word he reached out for her hand, careful not to touch the pained area. Then he looked into her eyes, placing his free hand on her cheek and slowly stroking her still tears covered skin. "This will sting a bit." He muttered, then wrapped the rag around her wrist right after, without leaving time for her to answer.

Pam hissed, closing her eyes and gritting her teeth for a moment. By the time she opened her eyes again, Eric was already smiling at her. "My child." He muttered barely audible. "My beautiful, beautiful child." Just like that, he pulled her into a tight embrace again, putting his arms around her. One hand started to stroke her soft blonde cascade, the other rested on her back and he kept whispering into her ear so restless. "Ljuset i mitt liv, den ljusa månen på min himmel. Förlåt min dumhet. Förlåt min blindhet. Jag kommer inte låta dig bli sårad igen. Gör mig inte vaka tårar rullande ner din kind åter, din smärta är min smärta."

"Then don't make me cry, asshole." She muttered, though her tone was much more relaxed and she got even closer to him, leaning into the hug and sniffing her maker's scent with eyes closed. "Jag ville överraska dig."

Chuckling slightly Eric kept stroking the back of her head. "Well, you surely did." For a few silent moments they just stood there melted into each other's arms with the horrible smell of burned stuff lingering around in that mess of a kitchen. Then he pulled away slightly, placing his index finger under her chin and forcing her to look into his eyes. "Now, I can't let my progeny be such a culinary failure, we'll find you something for your burn and I'll teach you how to make these properly."

Her expression was full of doubt. She raised a brow with a gloating smirk and placed her intact hand on her hip, asking with an amused tone. "You know how to make pancakes?"

Eric flashed a confident grin at her, then walked over the cupboard to search for something to treat the burn. "There are things even you don't know about me, min kärlek."

Thirty minutes, a normal pancake mixture and five steaming pancakes later, they were still standing at the stove, Eric behind her back, their hands both gripped on the frying pan's handle and him muttering into her ear. "Now round with the spoon so it won't tear apart… and now move only from the wrist, flip it. One, two… That wasn't three!"

"But I did it!" She answered with a victorious smile, glancing back at her maker over her shoulder. For so long, he'd taught her how to be a vampire. How to glamour people. How to fight. How to control her hunger. How to supress her emotions. How to think like a strategist, how to trick their enemies. Now they were both human again and he still had things to teach her.

"You know, it's amazing that you never managed to learn how to cook in your human life, at least."

With a slight smirk she answered, placing the perfectly fried pancake on the plate on top of the other five. "_That_ wasn't my job."

Chuckling, Eric removed one hand and used it to gather her hair and place it on one shoulder, sweeping it out of her neck on one side. Then he breathed a kiss on her bare skin, whispering the words into her ear. "Oh, I know…" Pam grabbed the ladle and poured some mixture in the frying pan, moving it round until it formed a neat circle. By that time, she was safe to do it alone and so Eric removed his other hand as well, placing it on her hip instead while his fingers kept tracing the soft skin of her neck. He could feel the beating of her heart by pressuring the vein, realizing that how human they were impressing him once again. Human. Completely human. Mortal. Humble. And then he just knew. It didn't matter. No matter how different and strange it seemed to live like that again, after long decades spent undead… Whatever they were, they were in it together. Always. She was bonded to him from the moment he first set his eyes on her. He'd chosen her and she'd chosen him. They would never part. "You better dig up some silver jewelry. Tomorrow night we're going to Fangtasia."


	4. Downfall

They ate all the pancakes; Pam ate at least three, though her maker kept pestering her about gaining too much weight and not being able to fit into her favorite dresses. In return, he got to enjoy his dinner with several cold death stares and he felt oddly amused once again. At some point between making those pancakes and eating them, she found her way back to her old self and there was hardly anything more comfortable for him than to be around _her_ again; he loved her sweetly irritating self. Exhausted, he finally went back to bed. As he was finally about to slip into a sound sleep, he heard the door opening followed by the noise of light steps, and seconds later he felt the motion of her crawling into the bed next to him. Putting on a smirk, he didn't even bother to open his eyes as he spoke up.

"You had a bad dream?"

"Shut up." Was all he got in return and he chuckled lightly, rolling on his side and opening his eyes, letting his blue orbs observe the angelic face of his progeny, looking as dissatisfied as ever.

"Want me to sing a lullaby?" Eric asked with an awfully amused tone, feeling the warmth inside he only experienced through their bond for a full century.

"I want you to shut up." She answered with an irritated tone and turned her back to him and slipped under the covers. "That dumb fairy couldn't invest in even a comfortable mattress. I wonder what the actual fuck she was doing with all that money you gave her." Pam ranted, rolling her eyes and then letting her lids fall, waiting for her conscience to turn off and fall back down into that dreamy state.

He didn't say a word, just grinned and rolled on his back again, closing his eyes. Minutes later they were both dreaming. The vivid images of his childhood took over control of his mind and once again he was thankful for those memories. Vampires didn't dream like that. Of course, even in her sleep the only thing occupying her mind was his money spent on the expensive Prada clothes she was about to claim.

He was the first to open his eyes at the strong rays of the sun creeping through the bedroom windows. Only then did he notice that at some point she managed to change her position and shift closer to him in her sleep, putting an arm around his form. He could've gotten out of the bed but that would've awakened her, so he decided to just lie there until she woke up on her own. He didn't have to wait much longer; the light dragged both of them back to reality in no time; it had been coded into their nature for far too long As she awoke with a start, he felt her basically jumping out of the bed, hurrying out of the area filled with the bright lights. He couldn't help but burst out laughing, sitting up and turning his head to look at her. She seemed so comatose and confused, first looking at the windows with a shocked expression for a brief moment before the realization hit her.

"You do this every morning?" Eric asked so entertained.

"No, only on weekends." She rolled her eyes, turning around in a tizzy and storming out of the bedroom.

"If it counts, it was cute." He yelled after her with an oddly wide grin, feeling like a real champion now that he finally got to use the word 'cute' in relation to her, after a hundred years.

"Fuck off."

"I'll buy you a stock of sun block for Christmas" No answer came and so he shook his head, still grinning as he got out of the bed. Then he stretched his limbs; yawning once before he moved to the door. Downstairs. Kitchen. Food. Coffee.

* * *

That day he didn't visit the lake as usual, rather spending his time trying to figure out what to gather in Fangtasia. After they fled the bar, he had never gone back to collect some very important papers and documents. Of course, it would've been much easier to visit the place during daylight, but there was only so much he could do to stop her from throwing a fit about it. If she wanted their bar back; he might as well let her try to manage it for a night. There was only one way to convince her it was no use, and that happened to be experience. He knew better than to raise his hopes up high.

Late that afternoon, he settled in the living room with his laptop, browsing through his contacts when he heard the stairs cracking. It was his moment to shine. Quickly he opened another tab, typing in the thing he was looking for and turning the laptop to face her by the time she entered the room.

"Look, I found you sun-proof capes!" He muttered with a hidden smile, then pointing at the screen. Her expression turned from neutral to pissed and he fought off the urge to burst out laughing hard enough to piss his pants. That would've been unfortunate.

Holding a medium sized treasure box she shot a death stare at her maker, ignoring his banter and moving to the couch without a word. Then she sat down all majestic and careless, placing the box on the coffee table and opening it while clearing her throat and making it obvious that she required his attention.

Without any enthusiasm he said what she wanted to hear. "What's in the box?"

"Glad you asked." She answered with a smirk and a prissy act, then flipping it open to reveal dozens of shiny, probably ridiculously expensive accessories. "These are your jewels."

Raising a brow his expression remained blank, sitting there in silence for a few moments before he asked. "What?"

"Silver."

"I'm not wearing jewels"

"There are unisex necklaces here!"

"Unisex my ass, get those things away from me."

"Let me just put this one on…"

"Pam, I'm warning you…"

"…You'll love it, trust me…" She muttered as she stood from the couch, holding a piece of silver jewelry and taking a few steps towards him before he held up his hand.

"Pamela. No."

Hissing, she stopped and placed her free hand on her hip, then stared at him with an unsatisfied expression. "What about a ring?"

"No."

For a few minutes, they held strong eye contact; Pam clenched her jaw and gave up, rolling her eyes. "Fine. I will be the first to laugh into your face when a baby drains you."

"At least your tacky shit won't shame my corpse."

"Excuse me, _tacky_?" She asked with her eyes wide open. "You are just asking for it, Northman." That was all she said before slamming the box closed and standing up, leaving him alone chuckling in the living room.

* * *

Knowing exactly when the bar would open, she got ready just in time. A part of her still couldn't believe they let Fangtasia be handled by idiots, but so long as the building didn't catch on fire she wouldn't slit any throats.

"Would you please hurry up? We don't have all night." She heard Eric ranting from downstairs and she rolled her eyes, turning around and taking another look at herself in the mirror.

"We have all night." She answered as she left the bedroom and went down the stairs, glancing at her maker briefly to judge his looks. His casual jeans, black tank top and leather jacket fit the occasion, just like her outfit, even if he didn't seem to agree.

"You might wanna go back and change." He recommended with a serious tone as soon as he set his eyes on her tall form.

"Now, why would you say that?" She asked with a smirk, stroking out her black, strapless leather mini dress. The set was complete with mesh stockings, a pair of metallic spiked pumps, and a lacy collar decorated with silver crosses. Her lips were jungle red, her eyes highlighted with professional makeup, her nails black as her soul.

Eric sighed, rubbing his forehead utterly annoyed. "Which part of 'playing it cool' wasn't clear? You're a human now; you have no decent power to protect yourself from drunk humans or reckless babies anymore."

"You gotta be kidding me" She said, waiting for him to tell her he was just joking. Obviously.

"I'm being serious. Go back and change."

"No"

"I'm not taking you anywhere like this."

Shooting a defiant look at him, she just stood there with her hands on her hips, returning his stare in silence for almost a full minute before she shrugged nonchalantly, moving to the door.

"Fine, I'll go alone."

With no more words, he grabbed her wrist, starting to drag her back to the stairs and almost causing her to trip due to the swift motion.

"I have my fucking silver spray, okay!" She shouted out, trying to free herself "That will take down a human easily, too! Let go of me! I'll bite you!"

Eric halted, letting out a hopeless sigh. If he forced her to change, he would listen to her throwing a fit all night long. Reluctantly, he let go of her and stood there shaking his head.

"You'll need to behave."

Instantly, Pam's face lit up with her typical confident look and she adjusted her clothing again, turning back to the front door and taking the steps to it. "I always do." She purred as she opened it and left the house, making her way to the car without waiting for him to follow. Taking a deep breath he went after her, closing the front door and yelling out into the thin air

"I'm surprised you still fit in these dresses after seven nutella pancakes."

"It's called pilates, asshole." His progeny answered as she pulled the front passenger's seat open and got inside the luxury car.

* * *

Entering the bar satisfied the need that she had been craving. As much as some days she hated that shithole, it was still the closest thing she had to something she actually _liked_. The fact that it was still running and working like they never had left utterly shocked her. One thing for sure, it wasn't Ginger's merit. As soon as they stepped inside, several pair of eyes settled on their form - some in disbelief, some in confusion, some in adoration. She couldn't help but wonder how obvious their change was. Instantly, Eric led her to the bar where their human pet stood, eyes wide open in shock.

"Pam! Eric! You're back!"

"Well aren't you a fucking Sherlock?" Pam hissed as she placed her hands up on the bar top.

"We've been missing you."

"We?" He echoed her word with a raised brow

"Me. And your friends." By friends, she probably meant blood bags and/or temporary fuck buddies.

"Great, where's our parade?" With an awfully sarcastic tone Pam glanced around, trying to spot familiar faces when Eric leaned close, muttering the words quietly and almost inaudible through the music.

"I will go and gather the papers, then we leave."

"What's the fun in that?"

"Keep your mouth shut." Was all he said before he backed away and made his way straight to the office's direction, leaving fascinated fang bangers all over the place. Obviously, they knew nothing.

She turned back to Ginger with a bored expression, narrowing her eyes as she asked "Who's been running the bar?"

"You said… I mean… It was me." She seemed already a bit frightened and confused, and Pam could not imagine that a sponge brained, mental mess of a human who's been glamoured into a dumb fuck would possibly keep that place alive and running.

"What?" She asked back in honest disbelief.

"Yes, I opened and closed and the guys changed shifts to make up for the security." And then Pam noticed a few dancers looking at her too, more than just surprised to acknowledge that their employees got everything handled and took care of their bar. It seemed like they didn't want to lose their jobs. She was just about to turn back to Ginger and ask her if she was shitting her when some kind of odd form of filth made his way to her and stopped only a few inches away, almost rubbing his disgusting body against hers.

"Let me guess… Gothic angel?" He asked, popping out his fangs right away and she needed all her self control not to laugh into his face. Obviously, he was new there - no one else knowing her would've dared to approach her like this.

Putting on a magically obvious smirk she purred the words softly. "Fuck off, Dracula Junior."

That made him laugh, then he sniffed around like some badly trained dog. "You smell amazing." He couldn't have been older than a week, 'amateur' was basically tattooed on his forehead.

"And you smell like shit." She hissed, getting really pissed in no time.

"No, no, I get it, I get it. You're with that serious looking guy, right? I saw you two together, he seems way too boring. A hot piece of human like you should really try something new…"

"How about a swift kick to your balls?" Pam offered with a smile though in her head she was already sorting out quality tortures for that pathetic excuse of a vampire, starting with skinning his ugly skin off his body.

"Aww, don't be so cruel. I bet that emo loser can hardly make it work; let me give you something you wouldn't regret. You know what they say, once you go vampire…"

Without letting him finish the sentence she grabbed his crotch, closing her fingers around his ridiculously small equipment with peer pressure as strong as a human possibly could to make it really painful. "Now listen here, Waldo, I'll give you one more chance to leave before I rip your stick off. Get the fuck out of this bar and take your shitty lines with you."

That seemed to anger him. Him being a fresh vampire and a complete fucktard, she should've expected him to act on the impulses. The next thing she knew, she felt him grab her wrist and twist it in a not so comfortable angle; grabbing her hair with his other hand and pulling her head back, avoiding the silvers around her neck and pressing his fangs against her cheek.

"I could suck you dry."

"Eat shit." Pam hissed out as she tried to free her hand to reach out for her spray, struggling in his grip while everyone around them seemed to freeze. Finally, she managed to grab the tiny container, then raised it up to eye level, but the little prick successfully moved quick enough to catch her motion and grab her hand just in time, making her drop it right after. That was the moment when she realized she should've upgraded to a silver container, after all. She still had her necklace, though. She leaned into his form, pressing their bodies together until the crosses and his skin connected.

"Fuck!" He pulled back, but the brief encounter wasn't enough to sedate him until she freed herself. "You little bitch!" The vampire yelled, dragging her and throwing her against the bar stools. With that she'd lost her balance and fell backwards, her back hitting the hard surface of the stools and ending up on the floor with a painful moan. It hurt like ten bitches and she was way too comatose to get herself together before he launched himself at her.

"Shit." She gritted out, eyes falling shut.

"I wouldn't do that in your place." Pam heard the oh so familiar voice, eyes popping open just to see her maker standing above her body in front of the baby vamp, holding out a stake with a silver tip placed right to his heart. Then Eric glanced around, nodding his head at some of the vampire employees who gathered around the two in no time. She couldn't see his eyes piercing into the guy's with pure despise. "Please, escort him outside and introduce him to the bar's rules." He said calmly, dropping his arm to his side and turning his back on the vampire so carelessly. Moments later they were dragging him away and out of the building. He was about to have one very unpleasant night.

"Great…" Pam breathed out, rolling her eyes at the employees. "Where were you in the… past… five minutes... idiots?" She coughed, trying to push herself up in a sitting position on the ground. Her spine was aching, burning, hurting. Only then did she notice the endless worry in Eric's eyes as he kneeled down and placed a hand on her cheek, shaking his head with a bitter expression.

"I leave you alone for five minutes…"

Rolling her eyes and feeling so sleepy all of the sudden she breathed out something like "Shut up and help me up" But the rest was all hazy and confusing. The only thing she actually recognized was his arms around her as he lifted her off the ground and carried her through the bar, to the exit and, well, probably to the car as well. She found her way back to her conscience only in the front passenger's seat, blinking a few times, breathing heavily.

"I asked you, several times" Eric muttered, obviously suppressing his anger as he leaned forward to the glove compartment and opened it, taking a small vial of red liquid. Vampire blood.

"You never told me you've been keeping…" By that time he already popped it open and placed to her mouth, making her swallow it and shutting her up at the same time. Instantly, she began to feel better. Her vision cleared and now all she saw was Eric frowning and wiping a drop of blood off her mouth.

"He could've killed you"

"He was just a pathetic baby, I could've handled it." She answered, placing a hand on her forehead. Damn, her fucking head was killing her.

"You never listen to me!" Eric snapped, now yelling at her and starting the car. "HE COULD'VE KILLED YOU!" This time, she remained silent. "THAT WAS THE DEAL, YOU BEHAVE AND I BRING YOU HERE, YOU DISRESPECTED ME! _AGAIN_!"

Shaking her head she took a deep breath, trying to calm him down "Eric…"

"SHUT UP! I GIVE AND GIVE AND I GET NOTHING IN RETURN, I'M DONE WITH THIS, SORT YOUR SHIT OUT!"

"But I…"

"NO FUCKING BUT! YOU GOT WHAT YOU WANTED." Then he just stopped. All of a sudden, he silenced himself and remained like that for several minutes. His silence was slowly killing her but it was one of the very few moments where she didn't dare to speak up anymore. "You went too far. You're not going back there until you learn how to follow orders. I refuse to put your life in risk because of your own reckless stupidity. That is my final word."


	5. Gift

**Okay so I just recently worked out the plot - what I usually don't do - and I'll promise it'll be more than just the two fighting non-stop, I'm just the kind of writer who can write like five pages about five minutes, sorry. Also, it's probably highly OOC but... It's AU, after all so... Fingers crossed._ This is still not BETA'd, I'll update it once I have it checked so if you can see this sentence then sorry for the sucky english._ Love you all, love me back with some reviews (:**

* * *

He didn't talk to her that night. The moment they arrived home he stormed into his bedroom and slammed the door closed, leaving her alone standing at the front door, eyes following him as he left.

"Great." Pam hissed, closing the front door and glancing around in the room. What to do now? Her eyes darted back and forth from the kitchen to the living room, then letting out a sigh and running her fingers through her golden blonde cascade.

"Ah, fuck it." She said, kicking her pumps off her feet not even slightly lady-like, then moving into the living room and stepping to the cabinet she'd been eyeing ever since they settled in that shithole of a house. She opened the cabinet's door, taking a long look at the stock. Cheap whisky, eggnog and such. That dumb waitress couldn't even help herself with keeping some quality alcohol.

However - healed or not - her back was still aching and except those pathetic excuses labeled as liquors, she had no better choice. With measured motions she grabbed two half-empty bottles of whisky, slamming the cabinet's door closed and then making her way to the sofa. There she placed the bottles on the coffee table and now with her hands all free she reached behind her form, searching for her dress's zipper.

At first, the feel of it seemed quite odd but she wouldn't pay much attention to such negligible fact. Moments later she was sliding the dress off her sculptural body, that awfully seductive shapely form that - apparently - got her in trouble. After she took off the dress and stripped to lingerie, she threw the piece of clothing on the sofa.

Already reaching out for one bottle it took her a few moments to notice how worn the dress actually was. One would think the whole scene in Fangtasia resulted her light backache but no thing more serious. Truth is, she was wrong. Its back was ripped open, blood dried into the fabric at the edge of the rips. "The hell?" She mumbled, stroking down the dress's injuries and then quickly placing her hand on her back - as much as she could reach it. The feel of the sticky gore caught her off guards, and the next moment she was already rushing upstairs and into her bedroom to take a look at herself in the standing mirror.

She glanced over at her shoulder, eyes hungrily trying to process the imagine in the mirror. The angelic reflection wasn't completely sound, a rather long and huge scratch from her left shoulder blade down to her worthy now decorated her back. With the vampire blood's blessing healing effect on her, she could tell exactly how the original wound must've been much, much bigger. And deep. "That pathetic little prick!" She gritted out, then moved into the bathroom in haste, gripping on the tap at the bathtub and adjusting the proper temperature. Letting the water fill up the tub she then went back downstairs to grab the bottles and her dress, took a small trip to the kitchen to throw the useless piece of clothing in the trash and made her way back to the bathroom with the booze.

First she settled the bottles on the floor, quiet and careful, then began to was the majority of the blood off her back at the washing basin. Of course the mixture of water and blood ended up soaking the cold, pale white tiles on the floor as well since the basin proved itself to be way too small for those actions. "This is so retarded." She hissed as she finally got all the sticky - a thin layer at the edge already dried - blood off her back. After all, she wouldn't sit in a bath of blood and water, her intention was to wash herself clean, not to got that damned disgusting mixture even into her hair.

At the end she had a floor covered in bloody water, soaking wet lingerie - but certainly not the good kind of soaking, and two bottles of cheap whisky what probably tasted like bleach. "Call it a fucking success." She ranted, stripping out of the lingerie, throwing a towel on the wet floor nonchalantly and then finally getting into the steamy hot bath.

Funny how some alcohol could lift human spirit. Back in the old days she would drink a few glasses of wine. Or try on much heavier mindset forming helpers, but it was never her field to get all those out of hand until she had no control over her actions. A little tranquilizer, however, always came in handy. Helped falling asleep in that disgusting room. She'd left the bathroom like that, didn't bother to pull out the plug and let the water escape the tub, didn't bother to squeeze the ten liters of water out of the towel and put it out to dry, didn't bother to clean up the bottles. She just put a bathrobe on and crawled into the bed, closing her eyes and drifting into a sound sleep moments later.

* * *

"Ahh… what the… fuuuck" Pam moaned as she turned on her side, peeking at her surroundings through one eye barely open. The delicate rays of that flaming fireball - so damn full of pride upon the sky - shined right into her face, making her hiss in displeasure and then slowly grab a small cushion to throw it at the window. "I'm so tired of this shit." She mumbled as she pushed herself up in a sitting position, every inch of her body in strain and ache, a feeling of that distant weakness and ridiculous depths of dehydration. Trying to swallow fucking Gobi desert in her mouth, she crawled out of the highly uncomfortable bed, almost falling to her face.

Making a miserable attempt to mix a back flip and a handstand into an acceptable motion, she ended up on the floor. Not like she was planning on starting the day oh so acrobatic, her strained muscles were to blame. "Ow, fuck" Hangover was somewhat similar to the first days of being a baby vampire. Head was about to blow up, everyone and every impulse, smell, sight seemed way too overwhelming. You couldn't concentrate on anything other than the odd feel in your well-known body and the vital needs of it. In that moment, she craved no thing more than a huge glass of ice cold water. So much that at the thought of it her eyes almost watered in ecstatic joy.

Trying to search for decent clothing and even put them on seemed like the mission impossible, the odds weren't exactly in her favor. Though she had her heart bleeding at such deficiency, she gave in and at some point even stood up. Silently, she stumbled to the dressing table and placed a hand on its surface, messing up and pushing off her expensive cosmetics as she was searching for the familiar feel of her sunglasses under her slender fingers. "Come on, come the fuck on, where the… Finally" Pam ranted, instantly putting the glasses on to cover her vision and darken the abusive orgy of lights in sight. A sigh, sweet relief escaped her rosy lips and with that she managed to get to the stairs faster than a handicapped turtle. Back in the game.

She was honestly trying her best to look less devastated, especially when she caught her maker's giant form trying to find a comfortable pose in the miniature chair at the dining table. Without saying a single word to him, Pam then moved to close the curtains in the kitchen, and straight after went to the sink and poured herself some water into a tall glass. No fairy blood could give a vampire the satisfaction as huge and pleasurable as hers was at the taste of the fresh and ice cold water. She let out a faint moan, taking huge gulps and swallowing the magnificent liquid until the glass was dry and Eric broke the silence.

"Had fun last night?" Of course, he wasn't interested at all. The tone made everything crystal clear, it was his neatly wrapped version of 'I'm still mad at you, dumb fuck'

"So now you're talking to me." She knew her answer wouldn't help to rest her case, however she was way to careless to bother about choosing her words wisely anymore, hence the biting reply. Granted he wouldn't like her attitude, Eric frowned, then carried on with his breakfast. He kept silent for a few moments what actually seemed like ages.

"How's your back?"

"I'm perfectly fine, Eric. Just peachy, feeling like a fucking champion." Pam hissed as she tossed the glass in the sink and turned back to him with arms crossed, glaring from behind the sunglasses. Then she crossed her arms in front of her chest ever so confident. No wonder her looks weren't that convincing. "You can go back to not giving a fuck about how I am, now."

"You know exactly that I always care about your well-being" He answered flatly, not even looking at her as he chased a bacon around with his fork

"Except when you're yelling at me and refuse to talk to me"

"You disobeyed me" He weren't mad, he weren't aggressive. He was plain quiet and modest, always so collected inside of his ancient mind.

"All I wanted was to find some entertainment in this human misery."

"Not in Fangtasia." Eric shook his head lightly. "You're way too stubborn. If you have followed my orders…"

"…then I would've let a human filth disgrace you." Pam spat out, then rolling her eyes and rubbing her temples. "Just forget it, Eric. You would've found another way to keep me from the remains of our real life." She was silent, then. He didn't answer, he knew better. She still had plenty to get off her chest. "I want it back. You are more than welcome to act like a fucktard, but I won't have that anymore. If you'd agreed in turning back, last night wouldn't have happened at the first place."

He then finally lifted his head, looking into her eyes through the glasses. "What are you talking about?"

Pam took the glasses off and threw them on the counter next to her, rubbing her forehead after. Then she took a deep breath and her arms fell to her side again, keeping her eyes on the kitchen floor's tiles. Neither of them spoke. Neither of them would move. Finally, she looked into his sea blue eyes.

"I tried. I did. For _you_." Always, everything for him. Aside the shallow possessions of shoes, dresses, designer pieces, she held no actual treasure in her life but her maker. "I can't do this anymore. This is not who I am, I'm no human, it always has been my fate to be turned." She didn't need to explain it further, the meaning of those words were crystal clear. She clung onto her vampire being and she would find a way to get it back. With or… _without_ him.

"Enough!" Eric snapped, slamming a fist against the dining table as he jumped up, kicking the chair back and away from him. "What are you foreshadowing, exactly? Now you're going to _leave_? Silly little brat, a puppet of some baby filth? _THIS_ is what you want?"

"I can return." She muttered quietly. "I can still be by your side."

"Nonsense. Your _fate_ always has been to be turned by me! I am your maker! Do you even hear yourself?!" They could've made it work. For a while. She could still be his partner, his companion. And the day his time would come, she would meet the sun. She had no progeny, no legacy, no one worthy to live for after him. And she would never find anyone. She knew, it wasn't the question of possibility or odds, it was the disgrace. His blood. His blood what resurrected her into a better life. He was the first, he always had been. Their blood. Rewriting that connection would've been worse than taking his life with her own bare hands. And she knew well.

For long moments, he was just staring into her eyes, then shook his head with a bitter taste in his mouth. He never hesitated when he had to decide to bring her with himself or not, he never once thought about breaking their bond, leaving each other's side. From the start, for a hundred years it wasn't a question. She was his permanent and most admired possession and partner, there were no existence without her by his side.

With that, he turned around and moved out of the kitchen, having her following him with quick steps and a worried expression. By the time he grabbed his coat she could feel her heart beating faster than a human heart should've.

"Where are you going?" He didn't answer, he just grabbed the front door's knob and pulled it open. "Eric, I…" Within the blink of an eye her eyes filled with tears and vision blurred out, almost unable to broadcast the scene where he left the house and slammed the door close after his form. Only then did she let her tears fall, shaking her head and trying to wipe the salty drops off her cheeks. Slowly, she put her hands around her body and choked on a word, bursting out sobbing.

* * *

Sacrificing most of her beloved clothes was harder than fitting everything she wanted to take in a small but still classy bag. By that time she managed to calm down, breathe in and out without breaking down crying, and concentrate on packing instead. "This would lead nowhere" She assured herself. "We would be in danger, always. I would have to watch him grow old and die." Pam chanted. "I can return, I can try to convince him after. I can protect him, I can be much stronger for him. I will break the bond right after I rise, he will forgive me. He will forgive me. He will forgive me, with time." Even she didn't believe her own words. _So_ absent-minded that she was folding the same clothing piece for a minute, _so_ absent-minded that the moment where the front door opened slipped and she never noticed the noise of it.

"Pam" instantly, she raised her head, looking around with eyes wide open and jumping off the bed to hurry to the stairs

"Eric?!" She asked as soon as she was running down the stairs, then settling her eyes on his form right at the front door. His expression was still blank, rough and angry. But his eyes... his eyes were different.

"What were you doing up there?" Eric asked quietly, taking a look at her from the tip of her toes to the top of her head. She looked away, pursing her lips and keeping silent. He didn't need more explanation. "I see." He let another few moments pass in silence before he spoke up again. "I didn't know you were in such hurry, otherwise I wouldn't have brought you this gift." At that, she looked up, half bitter and half excited.

"What gift?"

Without further words, he turned to the front door and opened it, then whistling for a brief second. Right after, it moved inside, taking a few nonchalant steps with an oddly goofy coordination and then sitting at the front entrance next to him as Eric closed the door.

"What is this?" Pam asked in disbelief, examining the creature with a frown.

"It's a Czechoslovakian wolfdog." Eric answered, gesturing at the dog. "It was hard to find one for sale in this area even with my connections, and he's still young but fairly well trained. And it's yours. They don't like the change in masters so you two should bond a little." He explained as if it was the most natural thing to bring home a wolfdog.

"Excuse me, what the fuck?" She was so taken aback, almost forgot the major crisis in their relationship and just stood there in honest dismay, looking almost hostile at that poor creature.

"You've always daydreamed that one day you would tame a whole pack and make those 'wolf filth' your slaves. This one here needs a tad bit more caring, but it's yours."

Her breath was taken away and her gaze bouncing from the dog to him and back. "Are you kidding me, Eric?"

"No. He doesn't have a name yet, I bought his nutrition, too." It was clear as the sun. He was trying to prove she could still have what she wanted, in that life too. That he would try his best to please her and that just had her heart in a tight grip, squeezing it to dust. Eric Northman would beg for no one, that was clear as the blue sky. But in that moment, his eyes gave him away as he said quietly "Give him some time before you give up on him." And after those words, right after, something broke in her.

Swallowing her tears she started nodding her head, trying to smile sweetly behind the tears. "Alright"

* * *

It really wasn't the right mindset for her to bother about dogs or whatever creatures, but Pam managed to spend some time with that beast of a pet. The moment she went back upstairs and he followed her, the dog found her shoes in no time and started to chew on them as she was just standing there, staring at her bag half packed. _Give him some time before you give up on him. _Letting out a sigh she looked at the dog, just to see him in the progress of destroying her awfully expensive pair of Chanel shoes.

"No! That's not a fucking toy!" She snapped as she moved to him and crouched to get the thing out of his mouth. Instantly, he started growling and so she opened her eyes wide, changing her tone to a sweeter one. Purring the words with a smile. "Okay you smelly bastard, give this to me and you can have the one from the 2006 collection, how about this deal, huh? Calm down, just give my shoe back." With that he let go of it and flashed a not even slightly impressed expression at her. "I swear you almost look intelligent. Dumb fuck." Pam ranted, rolling her eyes as she tried to clean the disgusting saliva off the shoe. He seemed so careless, as if her act was amusing him. "You're lucky I didn't get you skinned" Pam hissed, then making the dog howl. "Shut up!" That was going to be a long night.

That wasn't like him. He wouldn't have stayed up, lying in bed on his back all night, staring at the ceiling and fearing the moment when he would hear the sound of her steps leaving the house. For good. It was her choice, but she knew what that mean, she knew the weight of that decision. All he wanted was to just fall asleep already and lift that burden off his mind. But peace wouldn't come to him, at least not until he heard the bedroom's door opening. Then the steps of her lightweight self, and the feel of her crawling into bed just like a few days before. He suppressed a huge sigh, then just smiling in the dark.

"I hate that dog" He heard her dissatisfied voice, almost chuckling at the comment.

"You will love him"

"He injured my closet." Pam commented with a huffish tone.

"That must be because you pay more attention to it than to him"

"Obviously." Right after the dog peeked into the room, then making his way to the door and jumping on it just to curl up in a ball at their feet. "No! Coco, get off the bed!" He didn't give a flying fuck about his so called master, rather just closed his eyes and started snorting. "Fucking unbelievable."

Eric's chuckle caught her off guards. "You named him Coco?"

"Coco Chanel"

"That's a woman's name."

"I gave him a damn name, get over it."

"Alright. I like it." He said then, still lying on his back when she snuggled up to him, placing a hand on his chest and leaning her head on his shoulder. Smiling, he adjusted his position and put his arm around her form, resting his hand on her hip. "Did he hurt your stuff bad?" He asked, utterly entertained

"Goodnight, Eric."


	6. Change

**I'm not dead! Only that school gets on my nerves and I barely have the time to sleep. But here's the new chapter (: Reviews are more than welcome, writing it takes a lifetime (though I adore doing it) but commenting takes only a few minutes. Love me or hate me, at least tell me :D**

**P.S.: Translations at the bottom, so you don't have to go and translate it for yourself. All hail Google, even if they're probably incorrerct. **

* * *

If anything for Eric, walking down the stairs just to see the armchair in the center of the comically small hall, facing the front door wide open was an interesting sight to begin the morning with. As was the sight of Pam lying lazily in said armchair, chewing on some cherry flavored gum and flipping through magazines. Her legs were thrown over the armrest, feet bouncing up and down with swift motions as if the tip of her toes were painting some kind of abstract piece of art relentlessly; whirling the molecules into confusion in the thin air, all in complete silence. Rest assured, she didn't require any vampire abilities to notice the form of her maker towering above the piece of furniture on which she was so comfortably snuggled. Arching a brow, she turned the page just to glance up at him for a brief moment. "Good morning, Aurora."

"And here I thought you were the princess out of two of us." Eric answered flatly. "May I ask why you moved the armchair here?"

"You may." Pam nodded, silencing herself and making the tall blonde frown.

"May you answer?"

"Wait three seconds and you will see." The reply came carelessly as she finished the magazine and placed it on top of the pile on the ground. Eric was just about to let her know he wasn't in the mood for her games, however way before he could even open his rosy lips, the answer did come as his progeny foretold him. Coco ran inside the house, carrying some kind of hideous object in his mouth. "You got this one all disgusting again." Pam muttered, glaring at the dog and then taking a shoe from the ground. Indeed, there was another pile next to the magazines he'd not noticed while formerly taking a quick look at said group of wasted paper. "This one will do." She said, then without further explanation thre the shoe out of the house. Coco - of course - immediately took a one hundred and eighty degrees turn, chasing after the flying toy into the front yard.

"_Are_ those my shoes?"

"_Were_, actually." Pam answered, looking up at him with that charming, lethal smile of hers. Somehow, despite her human existence, she'd managed to keep that fierce expression of hers, the kind that rather fitted predators. Vampires. Once again he started to wonder if she was, in fact, born to be a vampire; something he'd sensed in her at the first glance. Frankly, he could care less about his shoe collection she insisted on buying, anyway.

"The dog is likely more entertained with them than I ever was." Putting on a wide grin, he moved around the armchair, looking at the door and waiting for Coco to return.

"Now why do you have to go breaking my heart?"

"I'm not throwing your shoes out, am I?" Eric asked, glancing back at his child over his shoulder while putting on an awfully wide grin.

The snort-like sound perfectly matched her expression, picking up another magazine ever so confidently.

"Clearly, I would end you if you tried." She stated seriously and with conviction, as if she ever had the chance or the power to do such thing when the pair knew exactly that she would rather be completely incapable of even attempting to trade her threats for real actions.

That appeared to be the trigger. Being so close to her, he didn't even need his vampire speed to get a strong grip on her neck, wrapping his fingers around her soft skin and pressuring it right under her jaw line as he leaned in so close that a single piece of stray hair could hardly fit between their faces. "Don't be so full of yourself."

"You do know that… this is… domestic… violence…" Pam gritted out, throwing daggers at the tall Viking with her mere gaze.

"Dear Pamela, your entire existence is domestic violence." With that, he loosened his grip, letting their eyes meet and pierce into the other's blue orbs. Naturally, both of them were well aware of the fact that the 'attack' shouldn't be taken seriously. Not to any extent, anyway.

"Never received any complaints." That made him smile. Not the kind of sweet smile, more like the kind of dominant smile. Groaning, he lowered his position until his body was weighting completely on his child, capturing her petite form under his giant self. By that time, his hand wasn't in a grip anymore; it was stroking down the smooth skin of her neck, finger wandering to her collarbone where the tip of it finally tore the connection away. In the matter of moments, her expression began a tad bit surprised and went to awfully content, purring the words sweetly while arching a brow. "Having a hard time with the morning wood, master?"

And just like that, the Viking warrior chuckled once, shaking his head though his eyes never left hers. "This has nothing to do with the morning, min ett och enda."

"Berätta mer." She replied, squirming lightly under his weight in a miserable fight for control. As if she ever had the control... Soon she gave up, hissing as she was still forced to keep their gaze locked.

"Har lite tålamod." With that he instantly reached to capture her wrists using only one hand, gripping on them tightly as he pushed her arms above her head and behind, staring down at his child in silence. No wonder, his heartbeat was already picking up the pace, his best quality - at least, according to Pam - eager to be freed from the prison of his so called shorts. "Tålamod… är ett sätt att seger"

She smiled the kind of smile that reminded Eric of why he had chosen her after all. The kind of smile that in its all glorious existence explained everything, spoke for itself and for a hundred years. "Ifall där var ingen konkurrens alls, hur gör du påstår seger?"

"Håll käften." Eric replied as he burst out in laughter - yet not even similar to the entertained way. Rather the way only she could make him laugh, just because she was there and they were way too… alike. Maybe that was what attracted him so much that night a hundred years before. They were kindred spirits, they shared the connection that only Godric managed to maintain with his child. It was greater than any marriage, deeper than any human bond. "You should use your mouth to do better things than to argue with me."

"As far as I'm concerned, your briefs are still on." No longer than a blink of an eye did it take for him to sink his slender fingers in his underwear, moments far from getting rid of the useless piece of clothing. Then all of a sudden something moist and scabrous marked the side of Pam's face. Lacking any graceful motion, she jumped up and shoved Eric's body off her, leaving only the warmth of her own being lingering on the armchair's surface. "HELP!" Standing on her own two feet, rubbing her cheek with eyes wide open and dangerously close to hyperventilating. Coco just sat there with a mischievous look on his face, his tongue stuck out at one side of his mouth, panting playfully. "This little shit licked my fucking face, Eric!" Pam yelled out, pointing out the beast with her casual death stare though her heart was still trying to catch up with the pace.

"Yeah, so much about my morning fuck." The Viking muttered, staring at the dog and hiding an awfully amused smile as he addressed his words. "If it wasn't my loss, I'd pet you for this."

"Ahhh I can feel my flesh rotting. Dirt, dirt, dirt, dirt…" Pam shrieked, gesturing around with her arms as a wounded chicken, then flailing away into the kitchen and hurrying with quick mini steps to the sink. "I'm going to puke. This is disgusting." She whispered with a high pitch while wiping the negligible amount of salvia off her face, adding gagging sounds in the meantime.

"Now, don't be so over-dramatic," Her maker chuckled as he slipped into the armchair and Coco jumped on top of him, despite both of their sizes still finding a comfortable position atop of his body. Grinning, he placed a hand on his fur around his neck, rubbing the dog while trying to hold back his laughter. By that time Pam managed to stumble out of the kitchen and back into the hall, arching a brow at the sight.

"You two are both disgusting. I will never, ever touch you again."

"Come on. Not even a blowjob? You don't need to touch me for that." The look on her face basically told him that he would be stabbed to death - ten times- if he even entertained the mere thought of adding another comment.

* * *

"Why do you have to do this here?" Eric sighed, rubbing his eyes closed.

"Because we're watching it together, that's not really possible in separate rooms." Rolling her eyes, his progeny adjusted her position on top of the king-sized bed, crowded with fluffy cushions and covered in the silky feel of her ridiculously expensive nightgown.

"You can't really think I'm actually going to watch this."

"But you promised me! Project Runaway is interesting!"

"Assuming I was born with a vagina." Looking at him over her shoulder she pursed her lips to stop herself from grinning boldly.

"Riight." Pam commented as she settled her gaze on the TV screen once again. "Now, this is the part where they…" And just like in that sacred moment, Coco ran inside the bedroom, dragging a piece of fabric after himself, wrapped around his neck. Naturally, Pam's eyes instantly scanned the pink remains of a former designer dress and she let out a faint scream, pointing at the dog with both hands. "WHAT IS THAT! STOP! SIT! LIE DOWN! GET UP! FUCK YOURSELF!" Covering her face she briefly sobbed into her palms, then ran her hand through her golden cascade with a psychotic look. "I CAN'T WITH YOU ANYMORE! I'M GOING TO SKIN YOU AND USE YOU AS A HANDBAG"

"What… is happening?" Eric asked as he sat up in the bed, searching for the cause of his beloved progeny's pain, soon bursting out laughing. "Hey Pam, he looks adorable." With that, Coco dropped to the ground, rolling around in the ruined dress, escorted by a rather cheered "Awooo."

"IS THAT MY VERSACE? IS IT ERIC? GO LOOK AT IT! I CAN'T IF THAT DEGENERATE RUINED MY VERSACE I WILL KILL TONIGHT!"

"Alright, take a deep breath." He said as he got out of the bed, calmly walking to the dog to free him from the metaphoric chain, that in fact happened to be the dress's sleeve. Then, with a professional act he peeled the fabric off the dog and held up the devastated piece, searching miserably for any sign. "Where do I check it?"

"INSIDE AT THE WORTHY LINE, THE LABEL!"

"Dial it back, Pamela, it's just a dress, you can buy another one." Eric ranted as he got into a pathetic fight with the dress for the designer signature. "It says… Valentina."

"It's ValentinO!" She snapped, fisting the mattress under her body, all in complete rage.

"MagnificO, calm the fuck down." Rolling his eyes, the giant man made a face at his former vampire progeny.

"How am I supposed to calm down when that mongrel tore my limited edition Valentino cocktail dress?"

"Are you invited to any cocktail parties in the near future?" The blonde Viking asked, sighing as he threw the dress away and moved back into the bed. "May I? No, you are not. I can't see the problem, Pam."

"You couldn't see it even if it was balls deep inside your ass, Eric! That dress meant a…"

"You're missing out on a great Project Runaway episode here…"

"…lot to me and this smelly fuck can't just simply run around and ruin everything I appreciate in my miserable, sad human exis…" She shut her mouth when Coco made a move, got up, arched his back and jumped on top of the bed, shifting towards his owners and lying his head down in Pam's lap. Then he locked their gaze and started crying softly with mouth closed, looking as if he was trying to shame himself for his previous actions.

"See? He's sorry." Even his miserable attempts to rest Coco's case seemed to hit deaf ears.

"I don't care if he's sorry. Get the fuck away from me! Eric will take you back to wherever the hell you've came from, I hate you!" Pam snapped, looking down at the dog with a hostile look. It only made him cry louder, turning into a burdened, heavy-hearted howl as he kept begging for forgiveness.

"Seriously, Pam?"

"Yes!"

Another depressed howl went to settle an attack against their hearing. "Awooooooooo."

"He's a dog, for the love of Odin, he just wants some affection. And he won't shut up until you forgive him." Pure boredom on his face, Eric gestured around while leaning his back against the headboard.

"Awooooooooooooooo-oooh."

"My head is going to blow up, shut the fuck up already!" Pam hissed, looking down at the dog who seemed to change tactics right after. Silencing himself, he pressed his fluffy head against her belly, rubbing it against her nightgown as if he was trying to glue it to her body. "Stop doing this! I don't know what to do, Eric what am I supposed to do, how do I stop this!?"

"Pamela, you're acting like a five year old. Just pet him."

"I will not!" She raised her head up high, tearing her gaze away from the dog's and trying to concentrate on the TV show.

"Then he will not stop." Came the answer, so carelessly and flatly that it actually angered her even more. However, she did not wish to spend another moment in that position. And sometimes, her hatred did get overpowered by her needs.

"Fine, fuck!" Placing a hand on top of the dog's head, she started rubbing Coco behind his ear, waiting for him to calm down and stop, and so he did, resting his head in her lap again. "Okay you little bastard, now get off me." One more time did he look at her before he lied down completely, closing his eyes in unshakable peace. "I said, OFF ME!"

"Let him be, Pamela."

"Bu…" Looking back at Eric she couldn't help but frown at his expression. "Unfuckingbelievable." Sighing, she gave up and devoted all her attention to the show, again. A few minutes in and a content snort escaped Coco's mouth, not even noticing it since his sound sleep. "Great, now it fell asleep. In my goddamn lap."

"That only means he likes you. He feels like you're his home." With a shrug, Eric answered as he kept his eyes on the screen.

"But I'm not."

"It's not that hard to take care of him. You could be." Eric continued, stating a casual fact, as ever. Deep down, he honestly intended to teach her a lesson about being open enough to feel bonded to anything else than her former vampire life. And him, of course. Rest assured he wasn't thrilled to share her affection, but so long it was only a dog who captured her now beating heart, so becoming his competition, he could live with it.

"No. I despise these unintelligent creatures. They're no good. All they do is ruin clothes and carry dead animals in their mouth. Disgusting."

"Yeah, if it's so disgusting, why have you been stroking his fur for five minutes now?" Instantly, she looked down at her hand that seemed to caress the wolf dog's body even without getting orders from her brain to do so.

"I'm not!" Pam hissed, removing her hand without an ounce of hesitation in mind. "I was just testing out the feel of my future coat."

"Sure you were."

Instantly, at least as soon as his brain managed to process the absence of her touch, Coco's breathing got heavy and irregular, threatening the world with waking up and causing more heartbreak in the magnificent land of designer clothes. Quickly, Pam put her hand back on his neck, starting to stroke his fur once again. And just like that, all seemed right in his world again. That dirty little bastard was working hard on making himself loveable after slaughtering the majority of her most precious treasures. And - though she wasn't willing to propose to that idea out loud - maybe there was a chance of her not hating him completely in the distant future.

"You're doing it aga…"a confident Eric spoke up, but never had the chance to finish his sentence.

"Just watch the damn show." And so they did. They watched the entire thing despite Eric's reluctant behavior, almost in complete silence - aside Coco's occasional, content snorts - and both happened to be satisfied with that activity. With a little luck, it may have been the first time - ever since their grotesque curse hit the two - when the pair was just plain and simple, _happy_.

* * *

**Min ett och enda - My one and only**  
**Berätta mer - Tell me more**  
**Har lite tålamod - Have a little patience**  
**Tålamod… är ett sätt att seger - Patience... is a way to victory**  
**Ifall där var ingen konkurrens alls, hur gör du påstår seger? - If there was no competition at all, how do you claim victory?**  
**Håll käften - Shut up**

**And now go review, sweetheart (:**


	7. Feelings

**Bam, I've been gone for a while. Sorry, some personal life shit and all. My future is in flames, my health is basically non-existent, my skin is covered with bruises and cuts and yepp, I probably got disowned by my parents isn't life beautiful. Last night, especially. /ends rant. Nevermind me, I finished the next chapter. Took my life seven energy drinks and since I don't have a BETA within reach it's probably full of mistakes. And I can't write. Oops. Hope you'll enjoy anyway, it's Paric and they are legendary, after all!**

**For the peeps who are (still) following Debt to settle, too (WTF is wrong with you why do you even read it): new chapter tomorrow, if everything goes according to plan. But then again, I might be sleeping on da streets tomorrow, so, fingers crossed. Peace out.**

**Translations:**

**Så du tror att du kan slåss mig - So you think you can fight me (off)?  
Jävla Barbie… - Fucking Barbie**

* * *

Why did he have to go and leave the TV on like that? So it seemed it was all his fault. Normally anyway, she hardly would've wasted time on mumbling those familiar words in the exact same pace as the beats escaped the speakers. Perfect match in pitch and speed.

"This kitten got your tongue tied in knots, I see. Spit it out 'cause I'm dying for company." Stepping out of the bathroom, Pam lashed into the master bedroom, shaking her head while holding onto the towel wrapped around her slender form.

"Fucking Spears." she hissed, however never cared to take the steps to the brand new television - or find the remote control, for that matter - and chase the music channel's horrendous tune away. Instead, she carried on with the melody - such fucktarded song, yet she still found herself singing along. Albeit, she was the one insisting on wiping away all their knowledge regarding her insignificant love for such music, not willing to admit to merely half of the concerts held by Fucking Spears that she attended to. Nor Eric would never forget about her temporary, brief… _derailment_.

Yes, there were some things not even vampires could adapt to… despite all, it was theirs. The memories, the experience. Also, the mental image of her getting caught while screaming out the lyrics on max volume when she was supposed to close down Fangtasia. Yet still he had nothing on her, not even with knowing her deepest, darkest secret. After all, she'd seen him in shiny disco jumpsuits with blow-dried blonde locks. The good old glam rock, '70s style. Singing Bonny M's "Daddy Cool" and shaking his rock hard ass around like a happy little vampire camper. Needless to say, hidden from human eyes. That was clearly only her privilege. The sound of him mumbling _'She is crazy about her daddy, oh, she believes in him, she loves her daddy'_, was - to that day and after - actively echoing in her head. Made harder to take him serious at times.

At that thought, she couldn't help but snorted - yet never missing the lyrics slowly coming to their peak. As much as you can call that a peak, given the fact that the entire song was a never-ending essay about wanting to _fuck_. Talk about peaks… "I can't take it, take it, take no more, never felt like, felt like this before. C'mon get me, get me on the floor…"

Of course, for a superficial observer, it might had been rather unusual to see her act like that. As strange as it is, they both had their own crosses, - theoretically speaking - unexpected of them to be fond of said crosses. But then again, they had way more history, they were far more complex beings than to consist of mere coldness, the everlasting careless vampire role and that role _only_. With the strict rule that no one else but Eric was allowed to see those depths of her, revealed. The vulnerable layers. The Pam that actually give a damn, that cared so much and so deep for the only man… the only creature - be him human or vampire - in this dustbowl of a planet who seem to be ruling her entire universe. The man whom she loved with all the love her worn heart could carry.

Shaking her head, the urge to fight off the silly emotions; cheesy human thoughts, was growing dangerously out of limits. Once again she had to witness the power of _feelings_, a heavy burden suffocating her - hence no more was she able to suppress such things. How ironic, a bitter joke on her: never in her first or whatsoever human life had she experienced this one overwhelming light inside. Never in her vampire life was her love for her maker so concrete, solid, clear, indestructible. His brief fling with microwave fingers could shake her, it really effected some jealousy. And the funniest, most miserable part is that being a human again helped her to actually mend that one injury - exactly because there were no choice of ignoring or deaden the intensity of their bond. It was there… in a different way.

One of these days she'd be wondering, lounging in around the horrendous building that someone dared to label and sell as a house. Lying lazily atop of the king sized bed, and guessing whether the new found strength of this love was to be blamed on her human status, or plain and simple… was she _falling_ _in love_? As a human? No wonder, she had no past experience to compare and what vampires had was something else. Neither could she explain, anyhow.

Now with no choice to filter the pure nature of it, made her feel just like madness. Could it be? "Ah, ridiculous." A soft sight escaped her full lips, all that's left of her guessing. Exploring how it is to belong to another species, getting used to a disturbing existence after a hundred years meant a great challenge, even for her. Sometimes it was just time to accept it. Maybe she was about to… Slowly. After all, with Eric by her side there wasn't really anything else to ask for. Maybe the new Versace collection… Hell, if one thought being a vampire was difficult, it was time for them to reconsider, again. Mad world.

The music came to its end, and with that the noise from downstairs suddenly became audible. "Så du tror att du kan slåss mig? Death on you!" That was it. That did it for her, she lost her nerve and in the matter of mere seconds she was already running down the stairs just as she was; with a towel wrapped around her slim shape. Combat outfit at its finest.

Upon taking the last step down on the stairs, somehow everything seemed quiet again. Silently, Pam took a look around. If anyone was fighting her maker, giving away the fact that she was there too - therefore speaking - instantly transferred to the do-not list. Instead, she took a few careful steps towards the living room, still ill at ease in the hall when the realization hit her like a bag of bricks: she was a human, some sharp and dangerous object wouldn't do much harm. At least, not in her own physical health… yet in someone else's. "Oh well, what are house decorations for…" She breathed out, gripping on the slender torso of a lamp directly next to her. It weighted much more than how it seemed. Perfect.

Just when she was about to enter the living room and observe the adventurous battleground, - like an indeed impressively trained G.I. Jane - with the speed close to light, Coco ran past her. Eric to follow. In her surprise, Pam dropped the lamp with a shriek, then taking a hundred and eighty degrees turn. "Dog! Northman!" The two halted, dropping to the floor and rolling all over the carpet like epileptic turtles caught on their backs.

"Yeah?" Eric asked ever so careless, rubbing the side of the pet who was actively trying to get to his throat and provoke another 'fight'.

"What the fuck?!" Pam snapped, gesturing at the two morons on the floor.

"We're playing. He's a good fighter. What were you doing with that lamp?" The question came, now that Coco successfully settled on top of Eric's chest, hardly finding any comfort.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" And with that, Pam made a renunciatory gesture at the team and climbed the stairs within a blink. Ten seconds down and she was already gone, completely, only leaving the scent of her cinnamon and peaches shower gel lingering in the air. Even that soothed him.

Looking at Coco, Eric now petted his head while setting free a heavy sigh. He was still lying on his back, a hand placed under his head, staring at the ceiling.

"Lazy, impudent, insubordinate… but for the love of Odin, she looks good. You feel me?"

* * *

"Can't you hurry up a bit, Pamela?" Eric yelled out, getting rather irritated with the situation.

"Would you let me finish making this fucking thing first? It was your god damn request…"

"Just throw it in the microwave. It's not quantum physics."

"I can see that, since I'm actually good at quantum physics."

"Jävla Barbie…" Eric ranted as he got up and made his way into the kitchen, leaving the living room with broad steps and expression calm, insoluble. Per usual. As soon as he stepped inside the kitchen with antique furniture, and worn; old tiles covering the floor, his eyes sought out for the sight of his progeny. She stood right next to the microwave, diving deep in the secrets of the popcorn-popping. instructions. Despite all the tempting urge to watch his truly gifted child struggle with a single pack of popcorn, Eric took the bag from her, then placed it inside the microwave. Once all was set, he hit start.

"Great. Now how the fuck will we know when it's done?" Pam asked bluntly. As a response, Eric only shook his head with a light smile. Then, - knowing her tendency to act like a hissy brat whenever he gave her the silent treatment - he answered anyhow.

"If you shut your mouth, we will hear when the popping stops."

"It's not even popping, asshole."

"Yet."

"Well fuck, fine. You do it." And with that, she stormed out of the room, leaving Eric behind. Then it finally hit him like a bag of bricks.

"You know exactly how to do this." Even while a bit offended by her cheap trick, he had to admit that her techniques to make someone else do what was supposed to be her job was highly amusing. He didn't even know why did he fall to her playing-dumb trick all the time. "Well played, Pamela. But you get no popcorn for this."

"We'll see." The confident response hit his ears and he plain simple, burst out laughing.

* * *

"I already regret letting you pick." Pam mumbled, watching as the TV screen brought them the intros, still not knowing what were they doomed to watch that Friday night.

"If you silenced yourself for just one brief moment, that would be amazing. It's a comedy. For us, anyway."

"I'm hungry, bored and cold. Do you see me laughing, Eric? Do you?"

With a speed that made her wonder if Eric kept a bit of his supernatural abilities, the Viking placed the bowl of popcorn in her lap. Then he put one arm around her shoulder and pulled his progeny to his chest, right into a tight embrace.

"Here. Better now?" He asked with a cocky grin, ever so confident as he felt her skin melting under his touch, already.

And so she couldn't help but hum and smile, close to purring as an awfully content kitten. "Yes it is." To have that cherry on top, Coco seemed to be in such blessed, deep sleep - right in front of the couch - that it was likely they wouldn't be bothered by anything for a while. "Interview with the Vampire?" Pam asked then with a brow in an elegant arch.

"Exactly."

"Alright." She said, nodding her head and asking him again after a few seconds. "But we _are_ going to make fun of it, right?"

"Exactly."

The commentaries began from dissing the vampires to dissing the actors. Even knowing their history - especially because knowing their history - the turning scene seemed unbearably cheesy. So much, that slowly it was getting uncomfortable, but then Eric spoke up.

"Maybe I should've given you rat blood, too. Discipline and all."

"I wish you _tried_."

Then Pam seemed to get into the movie more and more with each and every passing moment. why can't we read thoughts it sounds good I wanna read thoughts." And things like. "Jesus Christ, those poodles are ugly." Followed by a half-snort. "Why would you throw your grapes at him Eric did you ever throw grapes at me?"

"I believe not. Was I supposed to?"

"No! Not the curtains, don't burn them, don't fucking burn… Well, shit."

That was the point when Eric burst out laughing. Carelessly, he began wrapping he blonde locks around his fingers, golden cascade intertwining with his hand. He didn't speak, it was one of those times when listening to her alone, could make him feel satisfied. Rather paying attention to her than to the movie, he settled his gaze on her face, eyes caressing the delicate porcelain skin of her cheeks. Had he no idea how much time passed, Eric was simply lost in that breathtaking universe that was her. It felt almost like the absence of their bond, aching in his chest.

Then all of a sudden she seemed to be getting tense, a tiny bit guarded again. Hesitantly, he tore his gaze away and began to pay some attention to what was happening on the screen. The still pictures following each other in a pace way too fast for the human eye to separate - therefore creating motion - were showing the scene that made her upset. Sighing, he let go of her hair and started rubbing her neck to ease her nerves, murmuring quietly.

"This is just a movie."

Reluctant, Pam nodded. "I know." Then Lestat sunk his fangs deep into the whore's neck, sucking the life out of her while the other had no clue at all of the danger crawling so close. Pursing her lips she dropped her gaze, glancing at Coco instead. Barely visible she shook her head, then looked back at the screen.

"Look, it's the plague: Good times." Eric said, no wonder trying to cheer her up. Funny thing, he never before tried so much to comfort her, never thought he'd have to… being human indeed made him think and feel human, no longer did he think she would be _fine_. No longer did he think that a new pair of pumps would solve everything, or that she could handle it _alone_. So it seemed it was vital for him to chase even the smallest bits of her misery away as his love grew stronger and stronger. Because it _was_ possible. Maybe, as a vampire, his love, devotion, had a limit… A limit he couldn't detect because he lived up to the fullest of it. But not anymore. He was supposed to be the considerate, calm, cold Viking vampire, yet now when his walls failed him, she might had his heart melt in her palms. It wasn't like before. Even with all of his love for her, rational choices came first. Exactly to save and take care of her, at all times. Now a rational choice blurred over the desire to please her. God damn.

Then the doorbell rang. Now, vampires or not, the two instantly got up, launching themselves off the couch and both grabbed the nearest heavy or sharp object.

"That lamp doesn't even seem funny anymore, huh?" Pam hissed, keeping her pair of sea blue orbs on the front door. Needles to say, Eric made sure no one would come close to the house. The moment he tracked it as their hiding place. The locals knew that it was in his possession, also knew that suddenly it'd been put to use, but no one dared to find out if the big bad vampire was indeed roaming their neighborhood - especially with the vampire Queen's residence just around the corner. Queen Bill, who didn't give a flying fuck about them, now that they were harmless humans. Surely he wouldn't want to deal with dead humans in his are, it wasn't worth the blood on his hands. They hadn't had any visitors every since they moved in, with the exception of Ginger, of course. But no one called her this time.

"Maybe it's our _King_ visiting, wouldn't that be an honor?" Eric answered with a smirk, then reaching behind his back and sliding the letter opener knife under the hem of his jeans, ready to pull it out in case he'd have the opportunity.

"Wait, where did you find that?! How come you get the knife and I get the remote control!?" Pam snapped, putting an end to her rant when Eric turned around and looked deep into her eyes.

"Stay. Here." _Please_. He added in mind, praying that she would listen. "And make sure the dog stays put, too." Honestly, Eric had no idea what would he do if it was an actual enemy knocking on heaven's door. Sure he was a warrior, but even the freshest baby vampire could disarm him within the blink of an eye. Best odds for the best. And what if she got hurt? The mere thought angered him to no end, however he didn't let the intense emotion show. Something he'd mastered over the years. Shaking his head, he sorted his shit out and began taking the steps to the door. With every step he kept hearing the alarm in the back of his head. Damn Pamela and her innovational idea to cover the front door's glass completely. The voice got louder and louder until it became unbearable, and only reaching out for the door to the knob and opening the door could chase it away.

* * *

**OMFGodric very exciting riiiiiiiiiiiight? Soooooooo mysterious.**

**Guesses on who the fuck is at the door are welcomed. You won't figure it out anyway muahahhahahaha.**

**I think I should stop drinking energy drinks ****but I feel so aliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiive. **

**Da, Vodka.**

**Now go and review JFC.**


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